Please be okay
by HappyValentina
Summary: "Please come home. Please let me know you're okay." New York City doesn't sleep. And neither does Blaine. Not until Kurt comes home. Klaine, angsty.


_I came up with this around the final weeks of season 3. It came to me one late afternoon when I went out for a walk with my boyfriend's dog; it got pretty dark, and I started thinking about all the things that could happen to me just for going out a bit late; I could get mugged or kidnapped or raped or murdered. Just because I wanted to walk the dog and get fit in the process. Awful, isn't it?_

_But yeah, I started writing this, and I typed up pretty much everything, except that I didn't know quite how to end it. A few months later, with some inspiration courtesy of twitter-happy Ryan Murphy, I finally came up with something. Sorry if it's a bit underwhelming, but I'm happy with it._

_Disclaimer: Glee and all its characters belongs to Ryan Murphy, Ian Brennan and Brad Falchuk, and FOX. I own Lennon. _

* * *

Please be okay

By HappyValentina

* * *

Kurt went out for a half-hour run with the dog.

Two hours later, he still hadn't come back.

* * *

It was already getting dark, and Blaine had been worried for an hour already. But he told himself to calm down and wait, because sometimes Lennon would take a little longer to "make", or Kurt would run into someone around the block and become engrossed in conversation, or he'd find his way into a shop of some sort, attracted by something curious that caught his fancy, and he'd lose track of time.

But Blaine only managed to wait an extra fifteen minutes before he lost his cool and grabbed his coat and a scarf and went out looking for him.

He left numerous missed calls, texts and voice messages. Kurt always took his phone with him, because he needed music when he ran, or to take a picture of something cute Lennon might do.

But Kurt wouldn't answer. The phone would just ring and ring and then go to voicemail.

* * *

He went around the block a couple of times, calling Kurt's name. He had a flashlight with him.

It was cold, and the block was oddly deserted for a week night, and it made him uncomfortable. He felt a little vulnerable.

* * *

He hurried back home. When he walked in the door, he thought he heard a noise, like steps and a dog panting, and he felt his heart skip a beat and he held his breath, running into the bedroom.

It was only the TV: he forgot to turn it off when he went out.

Another hour had gone by.

Now he was really worried sick.

* * *

"Rachel, have you heard from Kurt?"

He didn't greet her, he just asked outright. His dread was confirmed when Rachel sounded confused.

"No, I haven't? Is he okay?"

"I... I'll call you back. Let me know if he contacts you."

"Blaine, wait, what hap-"

Blaine hung up. He started calling people who knew Kurt, co-workers, other friends, places he frequented. No one had seen him or heard from him.

He tried not to panic and kept calling everyone he could think of.

* * *

He phoned the police department. They told him he had to wait twenty-four hours to place a missing person report. Blaine told them to go screw themselves (in his mind). He called a few of his neighbors and pleaded for them to come with him to do a search around the area. He managed to recruit the help of five of them, plus the landlady's sons. The older couple next door promised to keep an eye out, in case Kurt came back while Blaine was out.

* * *

They raked the area around five blocks once, and the whole west edge of Central Park, with no results.

Blaine quickly ran into a copy place, and made a sign with a handwritten message and a picture of Kurt that he kept in his wallet. He made about fifty photocopies of it.

_Have you seen this person? _

_Kurt Hummel. 20. _

_Please call 646-734-4837/917-481-5162_

He handed each of his neighbors a bunch of copies, and they raked the same area again, asking people, handing out the copies, posting them on walls and lampposts.

* * *

It was nearly midnight, and he was exhausted and cold and terrified. The neighbors practically dragged him back to the building, telling him that he was no use if he was so tired, and he was going to run into trouble himself. They told him to go back to the apartment and wait, and get some sleep.

Sleep was the last thing on Blaine's mind.

* * *

He considered calling Rachel again. But what was he supposed to tell her? She was probably sleeping. And she might not be of much help either if he woke her up now, at one in the morning.

* * *

Half an hour later, he started calling hospitals and clinics. No one had come in or been brought in, in the past six hours, that would fit Kurt's description. The nurses he spoke to were quite nice; one told him to call again in an hour and she'd keep checking for him.

The fact that Kurt was not in a hospital or clinic did little to relieve him.

* * *

He sat by the phone in the kitchen all night, moving it a bit closer to the intercom. He kept his iPhone plugged to the charger, so that it wouldn't run out of battery.

He surfed the news channels, in case something could appear there. He really hoped it wouldn't.

He made a pot of coffee and prepared to pull an all-nighter.

By the wee hours of the morning, he was a bigger mess. The phone was silent; the intercom was silent. His iPhone was still. The coffee was only doing things to his exhaustion-addled brain. He conjured up some of the worst and best scenarios in his head. He wanted to take a hot shower really bad, or maybe a cold shower to wake him up, but he couldn't bring himself to walk away from the phone or intercom.

* * *

What if he got hit by a car?

He read once of a woman in the East Coast who had been running with her dog, and got hit and killed by a speeding driver being chased by the police after committing a crime. In broad daylight.

Blaine pushed that thought out of his mind. He called the nearest pound and ask about Lennon. No one had brought in a dog with that name or description.

* * *

What if he got mugged?

Maybe they had taken Kurt's phone, and that's why he wouldn't answer. But that wouldn't explain why he hadn't called or showed up all night.

What if someone attacked him? What if-

Blaine shook his head vigorously again, stopping himself from thinking something awful, and poured himself some orange juice.

* * *

What if Kurt had just left?

What if he had, for some reason, just decided to leave Blaine?

Blaine was on his fourth cup of coffee, and he started thinking back to the last few days, anything he might have done, anything he might have perceived as a sign of Kurt wanting to break up with him.

He thought about calling Rachel again, to ask her about it; or Kurt's family. Surely they would know. Surely if Kurt suddenly decided to leave his boyfriend, and leave his apartment, someone would know.

Blaine felt the hot sting of tears and all but slapped himself for being so ridiculous.

Kurt wouldn't do that. Of course not.

* * *

But what if he had?

* * *

But Kurt hadn't taken his wallet with him. He never did, not when he went running, precisely for fear of getting mugged. Plus, it wouldn't fit anywhere in his running gear.

He wouldn't leave without his wallet, would he? He wouldn't leave without his ID or money or clothes.

He wouldn't leave Blaine.

Would he?

* * *

When the sun was out, Blaine filled a travel mug with fresh coffee, and went out for another search around the area. He ran into some neighbors, a young married couple, who were just going out for a run. They ditched their morning run and went with him to look for Kurt. They returned to the building after an unsuccessful hour. Blaine kept looking for an extra hour, before feeling like his legs would give out from underneath him.

* * *

He tried making breakfast, but he couldn't eat. He accidentally filled Lennon's food bowl, like he always did. He called the pound again, and then the hospitals nearest his area for the fifth time. The nice nurses weren't so nice anymore, but he didn't care.

* * *

"Blaine, why didn't you tell me?"

It was 10 in the morning on Saturday, and Rachel had showed up with coffee and muffins and a few movies; she had obviously been planning a little movie marathon, just the three of them, until she saw a sign on a lamppost on her way. She had ripped it off and now she shoved it in his face, outraged and worried.

"When you didn't call me back, I assumed that everything was okay," she said, her voice catching in her throat a little. She looks him up and down, and the state of the apartment.

"How long?"

Blaine swallowed hard, because he had been trying really hard not to think about how long it had been. It felt like ages.

"Since six in the afternoon. I'm just waiting to place the police report."

Rachel shuddered visibly, catching herself on the back of a chair. She breathed a few times. Blaine put his hands on his hips and sighed.

"I need you to go to your apartment and wait, just in case he shows up there."

"No, I'll stay here with you," Rachel shook her head and went to hug him, but he pulled away.

"Just in case. Please."

"I can't just leave you here alone."

"I'll be fine."

"You're not fine. Look at you! You need to sleep."

Blaine glanced at his reflection on the toaster and sighed again.

"I'm not going to sleep until he comes back."

They argued for a few more minutes, but he managed to convince her that he would feel a lot better if she waited in her apartment, in the unlikely event that Kurt would call her show up at her doorstep.

"Call me if we have to go place the police report. I want to go with you," she said, pulling him into a hug. He suddenly didn't want her to let go or leave.

"He's going to come back soon," she reassured him, stroking his cheek before walking out the door.

* * *

He kept surfing all the news channels. He made more copies of the sign and went around putting them up and handing them out, across a bigger area. He returned home again, hoping against hope, but there was no one there.

He collapsed on the couch and wondered what to do.

He fell asleep for ten minutes, and woke up with a start. What if the phone rang and he didn't hear it? He got up and went to get more coffee. He still hadn't eaten anything. If Rachel were there, she would've been getting on his case for it.

* * *

Around four thirty in the afternoon, he got a call from the local pound. They had Lennon.

Someone had found him wandering around just outside of Central Park. He still had his leash on.

Blaine's heart caught in his throat. Something really bad had happened.

* * *

Rachel accompanied him to the pound to get his dog, and then to the police department to place the missing person report, because by then it had been twenty four hours on the dot. He took Lennon with him, because maybe there was something in Lennon's hair, or in the leash, that could help them figure out what had happened to Kurt. They did stuff like that on _CSI_, maybe they did it here too.

He fought the urge to cry as he answered all the questions the police officer asked him.

* * *

He and Rachel walked back to his apartment in silence. She stayed with him for a while, because she was sure Blaine was on the edge of a nervous breakdown, as a result of sleep-deprivation, too much coffee and no food, and the worst crisis he had ever gone through.

* * *

After Rachel left, Blaine called Cooper, because he needed to hear his brother's voice.

Cooper said he'd be on his way immediately, but he sounded uncharacteristically serious, and that hardly made Blaine feel better. Blaine hadn't really asked him to come, but he didn't protest.

* * *

Then he called Burt, after much consideration; with the man's heart issues, he was uncertain about sharing this with him. It took him a while to get the courage to call, but he had to. Burt had the right to know. Burt would know what to do.

He suddenly regretted it, though, when the man temporarily lost his cool and berated him for letting Kurt go out so late. There was a silence on the line, and Burt sighed and apologized.

"I'll be there as soon as I can."

* * *

The buzzing of the intercom woke him up, and he realizes that he fell asleep on the kitchen counter, with a half-empty mug of cold coffee. He must have dozed off for a few minutes. It was now six a.m.

The intercom buzzed again, and Blaine practically leap out of the stool and reached for the button.

"Kurt?" he asked hopefully.

"It's me," Cooper said.

Blaine's face fell a little, but he pressed the button to open the door downstairs.

He ran to the door and yanked it open, and a breathless Cooper appeared a minute later, panting from racing up the stairs, with a duffel bag on his shoulder. Without a word, Blaine launched himself at his big brother, wrapping his arms tightly around him and burying his face into his sweater, and he felt an overwhelming mixture of relief and despair. Cooper was there; Cooper had just flown in from California to be with him; Cooper would know what to do. Everything was going to be okay, somehow.

When Cooper hugged him back, Blaine felt it was finally too much, and he was crying against his brother's chest and didn't know how to stop.

* * *

Burt arrived a couple of hours later. He had been in Washington, and Carole tagged along, hugging Blaine and kissing his forehead. When she let him go, he looked at Burt uncertainly, but Burt didn't even hesitate before pulling him into an embrace.

"I'm sorry, Burt, I'm so sorry..." Blaine sobbed into Burt's shoulder, while Burt rubbed his back comfortingly and did his best at keeping his own tears at bay, but failed miserably.

"It's okay, kid. He's gonna be fine. I can feel it."

* * *

Blaine woke up with a yelp.

He suddenly realized he had dozed off again. Carole jumped up and put an arm around his shoulders.

"Shh, it's okay, sweetie, you just had a bad dream," she reassured him, rubbing his shoulder.

"Are you okay, Blaine?" Cooper asked, carrying a tray with tea for Carole and Burt and himself, and a bowl of soup for Blaine.

Blaine blinked at them, like he had just realized where he was. He slumped against the cushions and rubbed his face, shielding his eyes from the noon sun pouring in through the windows.

"You're tired," Carole said.

"I can't sleep," was all Blaine said.

"Then have some soup. You haven't eaten anything at all, have you?" Cooper handed him the bowl, and Blaine obliged, if only it would keep him from falling asleep again. The hot liquid felt nice going down his throat, but his stomach was such a mess of knots that he doubted it would do any good for him.

He continued eating, if only to push away the vague memory of the nightmare he'd just had.

* * *

"Something happened to him. I know it. He wouldn't leave just like that, without telling anyone. He wouldn't worry us like that. He wouldn't."

Cooper listened to his brother babble in whispers. Carole and Burt where in the living room, talking on the phone, and Cooper had managed to drag Blaine to bed, but for the past half hour Blaine just lay there in a fetal position, squeezing Kurt's pillow to his chest and mumbling into it. Cooper sat against the headboard behind Blaine, trying to be soothing. Lennon was curled up at their feet.

"Of course he wouldn't," Cooper replied, rubbing his little brother's back.

"He wouldn't leave me. Something terrible happened."

Cooper didn't quite know how to respond. Either alternative was equally unpleasant.

* * *

Blaine suddenly hated New York city.

The bright lights, the bustling streets, the constant stream of people through every corner, was mocking him. He used to dream of this place, dreamed of coming here with Kurt, making it big, living this exciting, unstoppable life, and most importantly, being themselves. He used to dream of being able to kiss his boyfriend anywhere in public and not having people sneering and throwing stuff. They were sure they had made it.

What was he supposed to do now?

_Stop it_, he scolded himself.

"Please, just give me some sign that you're okay..."

"Blaine, sweetie, you're talking to yourself again. You need to sleep. We'll keep watch, okay?"

Blaine obeyed Carole's request, only because he was so tired and nervous and terrified, he was afraid he would either throw up or faint.

* * *

It was almost eight when he woke up again. The sun had finally gone down, and it was really cold, but the sky was still bright pink and purple.

He really tried to sleep, but he'd wake up too many times, startled by the same bad dream. Other times it was Lennon who woke him, tossing beside him on Kurt's side of the bed, or breathing on him.

Blaine was so tired that he didn't know if he was fully awake or not.

* * *

He felt someone shake him, and sat up abruptly.

"They found him," Cooper said briefly, the phone glued to his ear.

Speechless and motionless, Blaine sat up and stared at him intently, as Cooper listens on the phone.

"Thank you, sir. We'll be right there," Cooper said into the phone and shut it off. "He's in Lenox Hill."

Without a question, Blaine jumped out of bed and put on the first pair of shoes he could find and his coat, barely waiting for his brother and Kurt's parents as he rushed out the door and down the stairs.

* * *

The cab ride to Lenox Hill Hospital felt eternal. Blaine jumped off as soon as the car came to a stop, and rushed into the Emergency area, Cooper right behind him.

"Kurt Hummel? Is Kurt Hummel here?" he said breathlessly to the nearest nurse behind the nearest counter. The nurse looked up.

"Are you Blaine Anderson?" she asked, glancing momentarily at three figures to her right. Blaine looked as well; there were two police officers talking to a doctor.

"Is he okay?" Blaine asked, suppressing the sudden need to throw up. Doctors made him nervous; police officers made him nervous. Hospitals made him extremely nauseous.

"Mr. Anderson? I'm doctor Sullivan," the doctor said, walking over, with the two officers flanking her. She smiled reassuringly at him. "Kurt is okay."

_Kurt is okay._

Those words almost had Blaine collapsing on the floor, if it hadn't been for Cooper's hand on his shoulder, which kept him from falling. The wave of relief that washed over him was the most powerful thing he had ever felt, and his eyes watered and he suddenly felt his lungs were too small. Behind him, Burt and Carole hugged each other tightly.

* * *

"He's doing fine right now. He was a little disoriented, that's why it took us so long to identify him and make sure he was well. They brought him in yesterday afternoon. He was mildly hypothermic, a little dehydrated and he suffered a mild concussion, but he's making a full recovery," Dr. Sullivan said as she led them down a hallway to the urgent care unit.

"What happened to him?" Burt asked.

"He says he remembers running with his dog along Central park, and then a couple of men came up to him and pointed a gun at his back; Kurt says he instinctively let go of the dog's leash, but the dog kept barking at the two men, and one of them might've kicked it to make it go away. They dragged Kurt into the park and tried to mug him in a secluded area. Kurt thinks he might have dropped his phone during the struggle, and they probably didn't find it, and since he didn't have his wallet either, they were disappointed. They hit him on the head with the barrel of the gun and punched him in the stomach, and then they pushed him down, and he felt like he was rolling down a little hill before coming to a stop because of a rock. He hit his head against the rock, and that's when he lost consciousness."

Blaine swallowed a lump in his throat.

"Where was he all this time? How did he get here?"

"The couple who found him said were running on the east side of Central Park, somewhere between 82nd and 83rd, and they found him in a ditch under the shrubbery, quite hidden from view. They called 911 immediately and he was brought here."

"And no one saw anything?" Burt asked.

Dr. Sullivan shrugged. "There will be an investigation, since he was attacked at gunpoint. The two police officers you saw are here to question him, and to follow up on your report."

She stopped when they reached the far end of the corridor. "You can go in and see him," she said, opening a door.

Blaine glanced into the room and saw him, and his heart skipped a beat.

There was a nurse with him, checking his IV. Kurt was slumped against the pillows, wearing a hospital gown, looking frightened and battered, with a gauze on his forehead, and Blaine was afraid to approach him. Because after days of not knowing what to do with himself, he felt oddly small and uncoordinated as he didn't know what to expect, how Kurt might react, and he was afraid.

But then Kurt was looking straight at him, and his forlorn face lit up so fast that it actually illuminated the grim hospital room, and he was sitting up and gasping in surprise and relief and grief. Blaine covered the five paces to the bed in a flash, wrapping his arms tightly around his boyfriend, and the breath he'd been holding in suddenly escaped his lips in a sob and a strangled, joyful laugh. He squeezed him, forgetting for a moment to be careful, but Kurt didn't mind, squeezing back just as hard.

"I'm so sorry, I'm sorry, Blaine, I love you, I'm so sorry I worried you," Kurt said, crying into Blaine's neck. Blaine chuckled and sniffed and rubbed his back.

"It's okay now. You're safe, it's okay."

Kurt pulled back, his face going from happy crying back to sad crying, face scrunched up in shame.

"I lost Lennon, Blaine, I'm so sorry," he blubbered. Blaine smiled and shook his head.

"No, no! He's fine. Someone found him, and he was okay."

The wide-eyed surprise on Kurt's face all but melted Blaine's heart. "Really? Oh god, that is such a relief!" he exclaimed, squeezing Blaine again. "I'm so sorry, I'm sorry, I love you, you know?"

Blaine kissed the top of Kurt's head, and sat there hugging him tightly, until he was calm enough. Kurt started crying again when he noticed his parents and his boyfriend's brother standing just outside the door, and started blubbering again about making everyone worried and his dad's heart, to which Burt responded with a hug and a kiss and nothing more.

* * *

Kurt only had a few stitches on his forehead, plus a few bruises on his body; his lips were chapped from the frost-nip and dehydration; but overall he was okay. He had to stay in the hospital another night, to monitor his concussion. Kurt really wanted to go home, but from the stern look his father gave him, he thought twice about arguing.

The police questioned him again. They had tried earlier, but Kurt had still been a little out of himself. However, Kurt didn't offer any new information. He didn't see his muggers' faces; he couldn't remember what they sounded like.

"I just woke up and I didn't know where I was or how I got there," Kurt replied with a shrug. "This man kept trying to wake me up, but my brain wouldn't cooperate."

Blaine felt a shiver run up his back at the inevitable mental image of Kurt lying unconscious in a ditch.

The officer jotted down the information and thanked Kurt, reminding him to call in if he remembered anything else.

* * *

Rachel got there just before visiting hours were over, carrying flowers and talking non-stop. She cried a little when she hugged Kurt. She had stopped by Kurt and Blaine's apartment to fetch them their night bags, and a decent pillow for Blaine.

Burt and Carole spent the night at the nearest hotel; Cooper headed back to the apartment, with the excuse of keeping an eye on Lennon.

And Blaine was able to sleep again, even in that very uncomfortable couch/bed, even if he woke up a few times just to make sure Kurt was really there.

* * *

The next day, after breakfast, Dr. Sullivan gave Kurt a final checkup, and then he was discharged. Cooper picked them up in a cab. Rachel and Burt and Carole were waiting for them with balloons, Rachel jumping up and down like an excited little girl.

* * *

Kurt would've been more appalled about the mess in the apartment, or feel more awful when Rachel was telling him about the state Blaine was in during his absence, but he was too busy basking on the relief and happiness of being back home, and seeing Lennon safe and sound. He sat for quite a long time on the kitchen floor hugging the black and white mutt.

Blaine thought about telling Kurt about his adventures and misadventures in searching for him, but decided to leave that for later. It would only make Kurt feel worse. Which in turn would make him feel worse as well.

Cooper wasn't as tactful, tho. He repeated some of the things Blaine said in his hysteria, about thinking that Kurt had left him. He thought he was just embarrassing Blaine in the process.

An hour after Kurt had finally stopped crying, Cooper was still apologizing.

* * *

Burt and Carole shared a cab with Cooper to the airport. It was a long and difficult goodbye, like they were leaving Lima all over again, and Carole couldn't help but get a little tearful again.

"No more late night jogs," Burt said with a stern look before giving his son a crushing hug.

"It wasn't late, it wasn't even dark out," Kurt groaned into his father's shoulder, rolling his eyes.

"Fine. No more afternoon jogs _solo_."

"If only you'd tell _him_ to get off his lazy butt and come with me, for both our sakes," Kurt replied, playfully pointing an accusing finger at Blaine. Burt pulled Blaine into an equally tight hug.

"Get off your lazy butt and go with him."

"Believe me, I will."

"Whatever you say," Kurt said, as Carole kissed him on the cheek.

Cooper hugged them both, whispering something in Kurt's ear. Blaine assumed Cooper was just saying sorry for the umpteenth time, but he'd ask Kurt about it later.

* * *

"Did you really think for a moment that I had left you?"

Blaine strained to keep his eyes open and glanced at Kurt, who was wrapped around Blaine.

Even knowing that his boyfriend was back, it was difficult for Blaine to be apart from him or even let him out of his sight, even for a second, and he thought he'd probably have that problem for a while.

After Burt, Carole and Cooper left, Kurt went to take a long shower while Blaine tried to tidy up a little, but every five minutes he had to stop what he was doing and sneak a peek into the bathroom to make sure Kurt was okay, that he was still there.

And no matter how exhausted he was, Blaine wasn't quite as relaxed as the moment when he felt the familiar weight next to him, tilting the mattress slightly, and the rustling of bed sheets, and the warm arms curling around his torso.

"I might have considered it briefly," Blaine muttered sleepily. "Mostly I just thought the universe was playing the dirtiest trick on me, hiding you from me, and I wondered what I ever did to deserve it."

Kurt nuzzled his shoulder. "Whatever would make you believe, even for a second, that I'd leave you?"

"To be honest, for a moment I preferred the idea of you leaving me, because the other option would be that something bad happened to you, that you were hurt or abducted or something."

Kurt made a sound between a sigh and a mirthless chuckle. Lennon watched them from the foot of the bed, tongue hanging out.

"The only reason I would ever leave you is because I got amnesia," Kurt said with a yawn. "But even then I don't think I could forget about you so easily."

Blaine smiled sadly and kissed Kurt's forehead, just above the bandage.

"And besides, if the roles had been reversed, I probably would've been even worse," Kurt added.

"Doubtful. Very doubtful. No one can build a worst-case scenario like me," Blaine countered playfully. Kurt chuckled and sighed, closing his eyes. Blaine watched him through heavy eyelids.

"What did Cooper say to you?"

"What?" Kurt asked, looking up at Blaine through his eyelashes.

"When he was saying goodbye, he didn't whisper something to you?"

Kurt chuckled again, burying his blushing face into Blaine's chest.

"He said that, when you and I get married, I'm not allowed to scare you like this anymore."

Blaine smiled and cupped Kurt's face, kissing him, slowly and long, basking in it. He felt a thrill run up his spine, like it was the very first time they kissed.

_When we get married_. It had always been 'when', not 'if', for as long as they could remember, because for a very long time they had both been so certain that there was no one else they'd rather spend their lives with. At least Blaine had known for a very long time, it was just a matter of when they decided to take that step. He could hardly wait.

Kurt smiled contentedly and rolled over onto his other side, letting Blaine's arms curl around his stomach. Blaine buried his nose into the hair at the nape of Kurt's neck, and breathed in deeply, and it smelled so nice and familiar and comforting. He had no idea how he made it through those two days without Kurt, without knowing if he'd ever see him and hold him and smell him again.

He thought back to the day when he finally moved to New York, he had thought Kurt would have everything ready, including the bedroom. But Kurt had been waiting for him to go buy a new bed, because it was their first bed and they should pick it out together. He remembered the thrill he felt from the moment they found it at the store, to their first time on it. And neither one had slept on it alone, until last night.

Blaine told himself that he'd never want to sleep alone again; that he was going to marry Kurt, and he was never going to let him go. He had never been more certain of anything else in his life.

"I knew I'd find you," Blaine whispered into his hair, when he thought Kurt was already asleep.

"I knew you would, too."

* * *

_The amnesia part is a very subtle reference to "Everyday", that wonderful, wonderful fic by Andy (ohblainers). If you haven't read it, you must._

_Thanks for reading!_

_-Valentina_


End file.
